《The Felstone Chronicles》


 A Surprising Dinner

    The rain fell hard, soaking everything it touched. The Earth itself, not able to stomach any more water, spat it back out onto the ground in a desperate attempt of survival. Among the many creatures caught in this eternal elemental struggle is a small boy, only 12 years old. He does not mind the rain, however. He enjoys the splashing sounds of his feet stomping into the puddles on his driveway. His mother will not be happy about having to clean his clothes again so quickly after the last wash. This does not concern the boy. It is his time for play and play he will.


    ¡°Lucas, if you so much as get one piece of dirt on those pants again I swear it will be the end of you!¡±


    Shocked by this sudden intrusion of reality into his playtime, Lucas does his best to ignore the outburst from his mother. She is now standing at the open front door of his house. He decides to continue playing instead. He tries to remember where he was putting the castle wall. Was it next to the garage where the flowers were being drowned by the rain? Or was it by the end of the driveway next to the bins that still needed to be brought inside?


    "Dad is going to be in big trouble when she finds out he forgot to bring them in again," Lucas thought. He turns to reassess his newly created kingdom when another shout splits the air, even louder than before.


    ¡°Lucas Brown, if I have to tell you one more time to come back inside, I might never let you back in at all!¡±


    Still determined to finish the layout of his freshly imagined new world, Lucas turns back toward the road and begins to measure the amount of space there will be between the streets of his walled city.


    ¡°Lucas Edward Brown, your last warning was two warnings ago. If you want Charlie to come over tonight you better move your legs right back inside this house!¡±


    Lucas drops his head in defeat, knowing that his mother¡¯s use of his middle name meant she is no longer playing around. ¡°Yes mother, coming right away, mother.¡± He takes one last snapshot of his city¡¯s map in his mind and turns towards the house. His steps are long and pronounced, purposefully creating waves in the puddles on the driveway. If he has to go inside he wants to be sure his protest is noticed. He watches his mother roll her eyes and say something he can¡¯t hear over the sound of the rain. She turns and walks back into the house, confident that using his middle name had the desired effect. The last few drops of rain splash against his glasses as he steps onto the porch. He opens the outside storm door and steps inside.


    The landing at the base of the stairs is normal enough. A little mat for shoes rests against the wall and a coat rack towers over his right side as he closes both doors behind him. He takes off his rain boots and tosses them onto the mat, not caring that they get mud all over his younger sister¡¯s shoes when they land. His coat is just as quickly discarded onto the very top of the rack, ensuring that everything underneath it will get wet. The door at the top of the stairs is shut, but the rumblings of music can be heard escaping underneath the crack at the base of the door.


    I hope she stays in there all night, especially once Charlie gets here, he thinks.


    The eggshell-white walls of the hallway before him are adorned with family photos from past vacations. As he walks towards the living room, the family photos give way to his father¡¯s watercolor paintings. He hears the sound of the television as he approaches the entrance. Lucas steps inside and sees his father, David, sitting on his favorite chair. A drink sweats onto a coaster on the end table next to him.


    ¡°Hey Dad,¡± says Lucas as he walks towards the couch.


    ¡°Hey Son, David replies. ¡°Don¡¯t you think about sitting down with your pants soaked like that, your mother will have a fit.¡±


    Lucas looks down at his pants and sees that the cuffs are completely caked in mud. He smiles as he looks back up towards his father, ¡°If you don¡¯t tell her about my pants, then I won¡¯t tell her you forgot to bring in the trash cans again¡±.


    A look of fear, shock, and pride mixes and plays across Mr. Brown¡¯s face as he realizes that he indeed did forget to bring in the trash cans after he got home from work. He begins to get up and walks across the room, ¡°Deal. And you¡¯re getting too good at that. You better be careful or your smart mouth will get you into trouble one of these days¡±. Lucas lets out a short laugh before he can stifle it and sheepishly looks back at his father. ¡°You¡¯re the one who taught me, after all,¡± says Lucas. Mr. Brown stops at the entrance to the hallway and looks back down at Lucas. ¡°Watch it, Mister. Don¡¯t press your luck¡±. Lucas looks back up at Mr. Brown, knowing he is playing a dangerous game, ¡°Sorry, dad. I didn¡¯t mean it,¡± he says. Mr. Brown steps towards Lucas and puts a hand on top of his head. He allows a smirk to grow and replies, ¡°Yes, you did. Now go upstairs and get ready for dinner before your mother puts us both in time-out¡±.


    Lucas walks back to the stairs and begins his ascent to his room. He makes it halfway up when he realizes that his dad will need to remove his drenched raincoat in order to find his own. He stays still as he peeks back down the stairs at the door. He sees the back of his father, an umbrella in hand, as the door closes. Crisis averted, he thinks to himself. He climbs the remainder of the stairs and walks past his sister¡¯s room. A bright pink sign with gold, glittery lettering warns anyone who passes by that no boys are allowed inside. An even larger sign above it, surrounded by unicorns and tiaras, proudly advertises that the domain on the other side of the door belongs to ¡°Princess Sophie¡±. Lucas motions his hands over his mouth and makes a pretend throw-up noise. He then bangs on the door as he walks by.


    ¡°Leave me alone!¡± can just be heard over the music coming from inside the room.


    ¡°Dad wants us to get ready for dinner!¡± Lucas screams back, much louder than is necessary, before continuing towards his room.


    ¡°Lucas, leave your sister alone!¡± his mother yells from the kitchen downstairs. Sighing as he opens his door, he stops to look at one of his own signs, hung crookedly across it, that reads, ¡°Beware of Middle Child¡±. He takes a step inside and a turn to look back down the hallway towards his sister¡¯s room as he quietly says, ¡°I wasn¡¯t one before she came along.¡± He closes the door behind him and feels an immediate sense of relief as he is once again in the safety of his room.


    Awaiting him is the ultimate den of a young child. Strewn across the floor are elegantly organized piles of chaos. It makes total sense to him, of course, as there is a system for keeping the piles separated by purpose. There is a pile of clean clothes lying haphazardly in front of his old dresser. The pile of dirty clothes lies right next to that, blocking the door to his closet. A tiny trash can sits in the corner with its contents straining against all odds to stay within its confines. A large window splits the room in half on the opposite wall. Between the slats of the blinds, decals of sports teams can be seen on the window panes. Most are yellowed from the sun and some have even curled off and fallen onto the sill. A delicate path from the door to his bed can be seen, just wide enough for him to safely travel across the minefield of belongings before him. He starts to walk towards his bed, careful not to step on or knock over the various table top game dioramas he has in various states of completion all over the room.


    Once on his bed, he takes stock of his kingdom as he removes his muddy pants. After throwing them onto the pile of dirty clothes without a second thought, he grabs a pair of shorts left on his sheets from the night before. A stack of magazines and books rests between the wall and his pillows, and he reaches for the novel on the top of the pile.


    The Hobbit or There and Back Again by J.R.R Tolkien, he says aloud. I wonder if this one is any good? Charlie keeps recommending it. I¡¯ll ask him why he likes it when he comes over tonight. I hope he remembers to bring his finished miniatures with him, he thinks. He flips through the pages and stops at the first picture he sees. He received a beautiful illustrated version of the book as a gift from his uncle earlier that year. Looking back at him is a giant red dragon and what he can only describe as a tiny person. The dragon lords over a mountain of gold larger than it is, and it appears as though the tiny person might be trying to sneak up to him.


    ¡°Well, if it has dragons it probably is a great book,¡± he says as he looks down at the closest diorama to his bed. This particular one has a picture of a dragon cut out from a magazine and pasted on the top of a gray spire made from LEGO bricks. At the base of the spire are four toy figures with their names written on pieces of paper next to their feet.


    ¡°Lucas! Come down for dinner!¡± his mom yells from downstairs. Once again interrupted by his mother¡¯s calls, Lucas puts down the book and swings his feet around from his bed. Ever careful not to step onto any of his creations, he tiptoes over the aforementioned spire and begins to walk to his door. As he opens it, he is greeted by his sister, who is none too pleased to be there.


    ¡°Mom says you have to let me play with you and Charlie once he gets here,¡± she says. Lucas reels from this new information and tests the validity of her claim.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you just stay in your room and listen to music and leave us alone?¡± he asks. Sophie rolls her eyes and lets out a prolonged, dramatic sigh.


    ¡°You think I want to play with you two? You guys are both such nerds!¡± she exclaims.


    ¡°How come mom is making you?¡± replies Lucas. Sophie starts to answer him, but he begins to think of all the ways he can convince his mother not to make her play with them. Noticing her older brother zoning out, Sophie snaps her fingers in front of his face to get his attention.


    ¡°You always do that! I was talking to you, so listen to me! Mom, he is doing it again!¡± she yells. Before Lucas can defend himself, a low, thunderous exclamation can be heard from the base of the stairs. ¡°You two better get down here right now. Dinner is ready and your mom has already asked you nicely. Both of you, down here, NOW!¡± Knowing better than to test the patience of their father, they both glower at each other as they walk toward the stairs. Lucas slows his pace and allows Sophie to walk in front of him, giving him the opportunity to flick her in the back of the neck.


    ¡°Hey! What was that for?¡± she cries as she turns to face him.


    ¡°For calling me a nerd, loser!¡± he replies. Now at the top of the stairs they both see their father waiting for them below. Realizing any further escalation will result in punishment for both of them, they independently act out of self-preservation and walk down the stairs without further incident. At the landing they are greeted by their father¡¯s motioning arm gestures, directing them both towards the dining room.


    ¡°Go to the kitchen, get your drink and sit down at the table. Quietly,¡± he demands. Sophie doesn¡¯t say a word and makes her way to the kitchen. Lucas stops in front of his father and once again drifts off in thought.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Even at his young age, Lucas marvels at how his father is able to go from being loud and scary to calm and collected. He and his mother know how to push each other¡¯s buttons, and do so effectively and frequently without a moment¡¯s hesitation. They always make peace, and things go back to normal. He and his dad, however, have a different relationship. He can never figure out why, but he knows that his father treats him differently than either of his siblings. It¡¯s not preferential or unfair, but he notices that he is given more leeway than his brother or sister. He can mess up more. Lucas never likes to make his father upset, and even more, hates the idea of disappointing him.


    ¡°Yes, Dad. I¡¯m sorry,¡± say Lucas. Mr. Brown leans down and looks Lucas in the eye, his own displaying a mixture of softness and sincerity.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry. Think about what you are doing and stop antagonizing your sister,¡± he says. Lucas slumps his shoulders and looks down at his feet.


    ¡°Okay, I will try. But does she really have to play with me and Charlie tonight?¡± asks Lucas.


    ¡°Yes. You know that your mother and I want you two to spend more time with each other. You don¡¯t have to become friends, but you both have to find a way to get along, especially when Tom isn¡¯t here,¡± his father replies. Lucas looks back up at Mr. Brown and begins to respond, but is cut off by yet another yell from his mother, this one layered with frustration.


    ¡°Really, David? Now we are waiting on you, too? Grab your son and get him to the table, please,¡± she says. Mr. Brown smiles and puts his hand on Lucas¡¯ shoulder, applying pressure to encourage him to move towards the kitchen.


    ¡°Great, now we¡¯re both in trouble,¡± he whispers. The pair makes their way into the kitchen without saying another word. Lucas knows his father¡¯s comment about them both being in trouble is a joke, but also that he should tread lightly with his mother and sister while eating dinner. Once in the kitchen, he goes to the cupboard and grabs a glass. He then walks to the refrigerator, which is covered in family photos and magnets from all of the states they have visited as a family. There are also various Christmas postcards from family members ¨C some they see regularly and some that Lucas can hardly remember the last time he saw them. He opens the door, grabs the fruit punch and pours himself a glass.


    ¡°Hey Lou, bring in some napkins with you, please,¡± his father asks. Lucas grabs the roll of paper towels, stretches it out the length of his arm, and rips some loose. He folds them over on each other and proceeds to the dining room. He is stunned when he sees what food is prepared and awaiting him. He looks first at his dad, and his eyes grow large. His dad catches this expression and smiles. He then mouths, ¡°Thank your mother.¡± Lucas sits down at his chair and realizes that no one has put any food on his or her plate yet.


    ¡°Why did you make meatloaf, mom? You only make it for special occasions.¡± Before his mother can respond, Sophie interjects, ¡°Can we eat now that we¡¯re all here?¡± Mrs. Brown flashes a stern look at Sophie but calmly replies, ¡°Yes, go ahead. Help yourself everyone.¡± Sophie grabs the bowl of angel hair pasta before Lucas can manage to and starts to spoon some onto her plate.


    ¡°Now, now, there is plenty enough for everyone,¡± says Mrs. Brown. She reaches for the bowl of green beans and puts some onto her plate. ¡°Dave, can you get some meatloaf for Lucas please and then pass me the pepper?¡±


    ¡°Sure thing, honey. Pass me your plate, Lou.¡± Lucas hands his plate to his father but remembers that his initial question to his mother has gone unanswered.


    ¡°Well, what¡¯s the special occasion?¡± he asks. He notices Sophie smiling out of the corner of his eye and even his dad seems in on a joke, as he lets loose a tiny laugh. ¡°Oh come on, everyone knows but me?¡± he asks as he reaches for a basket of freshly baked bread. Realizing that if she doesn¡¯t say something, Sophie will spill the secret, Mrs. Brown puts down her glass of wine and smiles the purest smile you will ever see.


    ¡°I talked to your brother earlier today,¡± she says.


    ¡°So, what? You talk to him almost every day it seems like. What did he want?¡± Lucas replies. At this point Sophie¡¯s face is red with anticipation, a fact not unnoticed by Mr. Brown.


    ¡°You better get to the good part or Sophie is going to beat you to it,¡± he says. Mrs. Brown takes a bite of her buttered bread and rests it back down on her plate. A small dot of butter somehow manages to find its way onto her cheekbone¨Ca phenomenon not uncommon and as such goes unmentioned by her family.


    ¡°Tom is coming home early!¡± she exclaims. Lucas immediately sits up in his chair. He tries as hard as he can to not get too excited, but the thought of his brother being home again releases an uncontrollable wave of joy through his mind.


    ¡°How early is early?¡± he asks. Mrs. Brown, excited to see Lucas so happy, noticeably relaxes.


    ¡°He called this morning to let me know that his friends aren¡¯t staying on campus as long as he thought, so he will be home tomorrow afternoon!¡± she replies. The thought of this being true sends Lucas into an emotional whirlwind. His older brother Tom is his best friend. Charlie is his closest friend from school, but Tom is his older brother. That means something. They did everything together growing up. If it were not for them being so many years apart in age, you could think they are twins. All the Brown men look eerily similar, across generations even, but the resemblance between Tom and Lucas is uncanny.


    ¡°Tomorrow afternoon? He wasn¡¯t supposed to be home for another week!¡± he says while squeezing ketchup over his meatloaf.


    Sophie, unable to contain her silence any longer, interrupts the conversation.


    ¡°I knew before you! I was with mom when she got the phone call!¡± she exclaims. The look on her face shows that she is the winner of a contest no one else knew they were participating in.


    ¡°Good for you, do you want a prize?¡± says Lucas indignantly. Quick to pick up on the tone in Lucas¡¯ voice, his father breaks from his silent eating to quell any potential argument.


    ¡°We had asked your sister not to say anything so we could sit down as a family and share the news with you. We know how much you miss your brother.¡±


    ¡°I miss him more!¡± says Sophie. Mrs. Brown darts a glance at her husband. The intended meaning is surprisingly, correctly received.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a contest, Sophie. I didn¡¯t mean that only Lucas misses Tom.¡± Lucas groans and drops his fork down on his plate, resulting in a sharp clanking noise.


    ¡°I don¡¯t miss him. That makes me sound like a big baby,¡± he says. Mrs. Brown, none too happy about the sound made by the dropped fork, responds, ¡°Well you can call it whatever you want to, but you know you are happier when he is home.¡± Lucas reaches for another piece of bread; somehow already his third of the meal.


    ¡°Well, duh, if he is home then I don¡¯t have to be stuck with her all the time,¡± he says.


    ¡°Don¡¯t point at your sister, Lou,¡± his dad interjects. ¡°And be nicer to her, you know she misses him too.¡± Lucas slumps down in his chair and pouts.


    ¡°Fine. Sophie, can you please pass the pasta?¡± asks Lucas. She looks at the bowl, which is clearly close enough for her brother to reach, and opens her mouth to speak. At the same instant she is met with a look from her mother and thinks better than to say what is on her mind. She instead grabs the bowl and hands it to her brother who graciously, but dramatically receives it from her.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. A moment passes. One deemed just too long by her father, who looks at her disapprovingly. She notices and quickly replies, ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    The remainder of dinner passes without further incident between the two Brown children. The family laughs at Mrs. Brown when she coughs and sneezes after eating her green beans covered in the pepper. Lucas makes sure to comment that it happens every time she puts pepper on her food but knows that it won¡¯t stop her from continuing to do it in the future. Mr. Brown remains mostly quiet and enjoys his meal. He asks Sophie what she has been up to while in her room and chuckles to himself when she answers that she is listening to music. Sophie, to her credit, asks her brother what he and Charlie are going to do once he arrives, knowing that she will have to partake in the experience. Lucas, surprised by her interest, happily responds.


    ¡°We are going to start our new campaign!¡± he says. Any fleeting notion of enjoying the time she will spend with Lucas and Charlie quickly evaporates as she slumps down in her chair.


    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re messing with me,¡± she says. Noticing her displeasure, Mr. Brown takes the opportunity to steer the conversation.


    ¡°A new campaign? I thought you told me that you were months away from finishing the one you two have been playing through all year?¡± Lucas, excited to talk about his games, dives right at the chance to finally talk about the new one.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re right, that was the plan. But our party got to the gates of a new town and were kidnapped by the evil Lord who rules over the whole province,¡± says Lucas. Mr. Brown, to his credit, keeps a passing knowledge of his son¡¯s games and what¡¯s going on in them. He may not always understand exactly what everything means or how they are played, but Lucas¡¯ imagination keeps him intrigued.


    ¡°Kidnapped? Your party was kidnapped? How did that happen? I thought they had just leveled up again?¡± says Mr. Brown.


    Meanwhile, Sophie, resigned to her fate that she is indeed going to have to play with Lucas and Charlie, let¡¯s out a loud fake snore.


    ¡°Borrrrrring!¡± she says. ¡°Can I please be excused so I can go to my room and have a few more moments of happiness before Charlie arrives?¡±


    ¡°It is not boring. You are just too young to understand,¡± replies Lucas.


    Knowing how negatively Sophie reacts any time Lucas comments on how she is younger than he is, Mrs. Brown breaks in before things get too out of hand.


    ¡°Now, now. Lucas, stop picking on her,¡± she says. And you need to be nicer to your brother. Yes you may go to your room until Charlie gets here.¡±


    Sophie pushes her chair back and stands up. Plate in hand, she walks to the kitchen, puts the plate in the sink and goes upstairs to her room. Her footfalls are the perfect volume to be heard but not loud enough to seem obnoxious. Lucas looks over towards his father and smiles, ¡°Women, am I right?¡± Mr. Brown lets out a laugh but cuts it short. He knows he made a mistake but also appreciates his son¡¯s sense of humor. Mrs. Brown disapprovingly looks first at Lucas and then at her husband.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Kate. But it was funny,¡± says Mr. Brown. Mrs. Brown, knowing it¡¯s not worth the effort, puts away the argument and saves it for later.


    ¡°If you¡¯re finished with your dinner you can clean up and go back up to your room,¡± she says.


    She looks at the old clock on the mantelpiece, a family heirloom from David¡¯s side of the family. It doesn¡¯t match the d¨¦cor of the room but somehow would be out of place if it were anywhere else. The stain that had been heinously put onto it had long worn away, leaving underneath the beautiful original Birch wood to shine through. A small clock as old family clocks go, it is no larger than a shoebox. Yet, carved into every inch of it are ornate figures ripped from fantasy and adventure lore. Tiny dragons flying over foggy mountaintops, dwarves digging deeper into their mines to find lost treasures, and even gangs of sprites tricking common folk out of their belongings, wraps around the clock. Definitely out of place in her house, but her sons¡¯ love for it gives it a place of honor in their home¡¯s formal gathering room.


    ¡°Charlie should be here in about half an hour. I know you like time to set up your over-world before you two start,¡± she says.


    Lucas, shocked by his mother¡¯s use of proper terminology, cannot hide the surprise on his face. Mrs. Brown notices her son¡¯s reaction and lets out her own soft chuckle.


    ¡°I listen to you two and understand more than you know,¡± she says proudly.


    Lucas smiles back and replies, ¡°Sure, mom, whatever you say.¡± He gets up from the table to take his dish to the kitchen but notices his father motioning his head towards Mrs. Brown. Luckily, Lucas picks up on this and says, ¡°Thanks for making the meatloaf mom. I am super happy that Tom is coming home tomorrow¡±.


    Kate gets up from her chair, walks over to her son and gives him a hug.


    ¡°You are welcome. And I knew you would be. Now go and get ready for Charlie,¡± she says. Lucas prys himself free from the hug and groans, ¡°You don¡¯t always have to ruin it with a hug, mom.¡±


    He walks to the entrance to the kitchen and turns to his dad and mouths ¡°Thanks a lot¡±.


    Mr. Brown, witty as ever, flashes a huge grin and says nothing while Mrs. Brown says, ¡°Sure, son, whatever you say¡±.


    Happy with her own wit, Kate laughs at her own joke and takes another drink out of her glass of wine. Lucas deposits his plate into the sink and runs upstairs. Sophie¡¯s room is already playing the same music from before but the thought of her doesn¡¯t cross his mind at all. His brother is going to be home tomorrow, his best friend is soon to be over to spend the night and the two of them are going to start another new adventure. He makes it to his room and deftly maneuvers through the piles of stuff, ending with a wild flop onto his bed.


    He knows there is still much work to be done to set up his new game, but with all of the great news he got at dinner, he has a strong feeling that this game will be the best one they¡¯ve ever had. He reaches over towards his desk at the foot of his bed and begins to rifle through the stack of legal pads and notebooks resting on top. Although there is a system to keep things organized, his adventure guides from one campaign are often used to augment those from other campaigns. For this new adventure, he has gone through them all, taking the best parts of each game he¡¯s ever made to create the ultimate fantasy experience. He finally finds the notebook he is looking for and falls back down onto his back with it clutched in his hands. He extends his arms and looks at the cover, reading the title aloud, ¡°The Felstone Chronicles: Trials of Sir Edwin the Brave¡±.

 A Harsh Awakening

    The cell is like any other, cold, dark and damp. A scrap of food is being fought over in the corner by two monstrous rats. The single prisoner doesn¡¯t seem to mind the struggle, as seeing something else fighting for survival reminds him that his current state of affairs is not unique. A tiny hole in the ceiling lets through just enough moonlight to illuminate the surrounding cells. His momentary feeling of calm quickly disappears. He is not only alone in the cell, but is also alone in the entire room.


    ¡°Where did they take them?¡± the man wonders. He stands to his feet to better gather his bearings. He takes a step toward the barred walls imprisoning him, and the rats scurry away, leaving behind the scrap of food. He takes a closer look and recoils when he realizes it is not food, but rather a human foot. The man leans down to pick it up and holds it up to the moonlight.


    ¡°Poor sod. Sadly, no indication to whom you used to be attached to,¡± he says. The loud creak of the wooden door at the end of the room startles the man, and he drops the foot to the ground. He retreats back to the corner of his cell and sits down.


    ¡°I wonder if this idiot is still asleep?¡± a high-pitched voice says from the now-opened doorway.


    ¡°That¡¯s what we are here to ensure, you dolt,¡± replies a soft but confident female voice. Their footfalls slowly approach the man¡¯s cell. The clanging of wood on metal is heard as they walk until they stop in front of their captive.


    ¡°Wakey, wakey!¡± the high-pitched voice screams as he bangs a baton against the door. The man lifts his head to view his captors for the first time. Before him stands just one man, a portly fellow covered in dusty rags, the remnants of a hood dangling from his shoulders. The baton he holds is poorly crafted but clearly has seen some use, as the grooves along its side are deep and plentiful. His pants are tattered and patched and his shoes are burlap bags tied right underneath his knees. At his feet, a black dog, which is surprisingly clean compared to its master, slowly wags its tail. The captor looks past this person and back down toward the doorway.


    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± shouts the man holding the baton.


    ¡°He¡¯s looking for me, you imbecile.¡±


    The man in the cell quickly stands up and briskly makes his way to the cell door.


    ¡°What kind of trick is this? Is there someone behind you?¡± inquires the prisoner. The dog stands up and approaches the cell. It sticks his head through the bars and raises it, his eyes locking with the man.


    ¡°No trick, you simpleton. Not that you would understand a true trick if one were staring you right in the face,¡± the dog replies. It removes its head from between the bars, let¡¯s out a dismissive laugh and walks back toward the other man.


    ¡°What kind of game are you playing? I demand answers! What have you done with my friends?¡± the prisoner cries. The man with the baton wraps it against the cell door.


    ¡°Enough questions from you!¡± he screams. ¡°We¡¯re here for you to give answers to us!¡±


    He looks down at the dog and asks, ¡°Did I say that right?¡±


    The dog lowers its head and sighs, ¡°Yes, you said that correctly,¡± it replies. ¡°Now go back upstairs and let our master know that the last prisoner is awake. The grown ups need some time alone to speak.¡±


    The man, pleased that he didn¡¯t anger the dog, smiles and begins to run to the door.


    ¡°Stop!¡± screams the dog. ¡°Leave the keys, will you not?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The man stops and turns and slumps down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You know how I get excited.¡± He grabs the keys from his waist and motions them to the dog.


    ¡°Is this supposed to be a joke? So easy for such a small brain to get excited, but not quite large enough to realize I don¡¯t have hands?¡± says the dog. The prisoner stares at the pair on the other side of the bars, a bewildered look across his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re a talking dog?¡± he asks incredulously.


    The dog turns back towards the prisoner, looks him up and down and then looks back at the fat man. ¡°It appears maybe yours isn¡¯t the smallest brain in the room after all. Now go, tell the master we will be ready with the last prisoner shortly¡±.


    The man drops the keys on the ground next to the dog and walks away without saying another word. The dog watches him leave, waits until the door is closed and then turns to face the prisoner.


    ¡°Do not pay heed to that oaf. Why our master has kept him around all of these years is beyond my understanding,¡± the dog says. The man in the cell, still unsure of what he sees before him, throws reason out of his mind and decides to engage in conversation with the animal before him.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re a talking dog,¡± he says.


    ¡°Established. Really my quip about your brain size was just that, a quip, but please don¡¯t let it be true,¡± the dog replies. The prisoner lets out an astonished laugh and sits down to better view the dog.


    ¡°Try to pet me and you will lose your hand,¡± the dog commands.


    ¡°Lose my hand? I am in a dream and you think I am afraid of a talking dog, a dumb, fat lackey, and losing my hand?¡± the prisoner retorts. The dog, equal parts enraged and impressed, takes a few steps back from the cell door. ¡°Tsk, tsk. Now you had to go and upset me. A shame, really, for you really are quite the handsome specimen. But I am sure when all that remains of you is a hand, it will still be a handsome one,¡± the dog replies.


    Before the prisoner can respond he is dumbstruck by what takes place before him. The dog begins to mutter to itself in some language he cannot understand. The air around him, already cool and damp, becomes chilled. The dampness turns to ice as little crystals form on every surface of the room, including him. He looks back at the dog and notices it has gotten bigger and its hair has gotten longer. The icy particles fly off of his bare skin, leaving little cuts behind, some deep enough to instantly draw blood. He reaches for his right forearm in pain.


    ¡°What is this?¡± he cries out. The rest of the ice in the room begins to swirl around the dog, obscuring it from view. The soft mutters from before are now loud commands being spoken over and over again. He tries to make out any words, or even a sound that he recognizes, but it is all alien to him. The ice continues to spin faster until it violently comes to a stop, leaving behind a tower roughly six feet tall.


    The once chilled air now begins to warm. The room grows humid and the dank smell of human waste from before becomes almost tangible in his mouth. The heat continues to increase and he notices the bars his hands are grabbing begin to glow. Before he can remove them, the smell of burning flesh erupts into the air. He lunges his entire body away from the cell door, causing bits of his hand to remain on the bars. Through his watery eyes and dizziness he can notice the skin already beginning to sizzle.


    ¡°WHAT IS THIS!¡± he screams in pain and horror. He wipes the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks down and sees the imprint of the metal bars burned into his now exposed palm. The room is now filled with steam, thick and acrid. Unable to determine one smell from another, he reaches down to grab his shirt and keels over in unimaginable pain. His shirt has melted to his chest and in spots the skin has been charred to the bone.


    Somehow, amongst the horror of realizing he is being cooked alive, he manages to get to his feet and look out of his cell. The severed foot the rats were battling from before is now a heap of blackened bones. The bars can no longer be seen. The steam is so thick he tries to wave his arms through it as though it is a spider¡¯s web. Each pass through the air sees more of his skin bubbling as a result of the heat.


    ¡°Please! I beg of you! What is this madness?¡± he desperately cries out.


    At that moment a void appears just outside of where his cell door once stood. The ice tower from before is gone and in its place is the fuzzy outline of a person. What appears to be a hand reaches through the steam towards the prisoner. It gently lands on his cheek and caresses his now deformed face.


    The prisoner musters the last of his strength to open his eyes once more. He knows that when he does they will be boiled inside of his own skull. He knows that it doesn¡¯t matter because soon his eyelids will melt away. But, most importantly, he knows soon he will awake from this nightmare. As he opens his eyes he sees the striking image of a woman with long black hair. As the man slips away into unconsciousness he hears the woman say in a soft, but confident voice, ¡°Assuredly, not a dream¡±.

 The Dungeon

    Lucas hurriedly grabs his dioramas from the floor of his room, carefully tiptoeing over piles of his belongings. He knows that Charlie will arrive at any minute and wants to be sure that everything is in place before he shows up.


    ¡°Mom, have you seen my notebooks?¡± he shouts. He frantically looks around his room, knowing that his night is ruined if he does not find them.


    ¡°Which notebooks? You have so many!¡± she replies. Lucas lifts up a pile of papers from his bed. He motions to dismiss them but stops when his eyes catch the writing on the page. He looks at the scrap of paper closer and slightly reels when he realizes what it is.


    ¡°How did this get here?¡± he thinks. In his hand are crudely drawn characters with blurbs describing who they are. He flips the page over in his hand and reads the description aloud.


    ¡°Sir Edwin. Athletic build, if not a little on the bulkier side ¨C Shoulder length brown hair. Hazel eyes. Soft features but a commanding stare. Champion of the people - Hates oppressors ¨C Not the smartest but not dumb ¨C Good with a sword and shield. Trustworthy to a fault ¨C Has a hard time asking for help but freely gives it.¡± Lucas looks at the drawing.


    ¡°Charlie drew this in fifteen minutes based off of that description and it¡¯s better than anything I have ever drawn in my entire life,¡± he thinks.


    He looks at the rest of the page and realizes that it came from the notebooks he is looking for. ¡°Sir Edwin. We¡¯ll see how you get yourself out of this one,¡± he says.


    ¡°Lucas, do they have drawings all over the front covers?¡± his mom asks. Lucas¡¯ attention jolts from the pages in his hand to his mother¡¯s voice from downstairs.


    ¡°Yes! Thanks, I¡¯ll be right down!¡± he replies. He folds the pages into his pocket, picks up the LEGO creation, and heads downstairs. He makes his way to the living room and sees his mother holding the notebooks. She is going through them, a curious look growing on her face.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t look at them! It¡¯s private!¡± he commands. His mother smiles and closes the notebooks while handing them to her son.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to pry. But, did you write all of that? Every single one is filled,¡± she asks. Lucas looks at the notebooks and begins to glow with pride.


    ¡°Yes, I told you I have been working on the ultimate fantasy adventure. I¡¯ve taken bits and pieces of my other stories and combined them into this,¡± he says.


    ¡°Well, if that is the case, how can it be private if it¡¯s a game you are going to play?¡± Lucas scoffs and rolls his eyes.


    ¡°Because, mom, these contain every possible outcome I could think of. You play the game, but depending on the choices you make, the heroes can go on different adventures. So you might not experience everything I¡¯ve written in one playthrough.¡± Mrs. Brown sits down on the chair next to the fireplace and opens up a magazine.


    ¡°I see. So how long does one playthrough take? Are you going to get it all done tonight once Charlie gets here?¡± Lucas laughs, amused by his mother¡¯s ignorance.


    ¡°Of course not. We are starting this adventure tonight. It¡¯s called a campaign. I hope that we can get it done by the end of the summer, but you never really know for sure. There are enough paths and options for multiple campaigns in here. I created a whole new world of possibilities!¡± he says exuberantly.


    ¡°The whole summer? I guess Charlie will be coming over here often, then?¡± Lucas flops down on the couch and starts flipping through the notebooks.


    ¡°Well, it depends. I¡¯ve been working on construction of the main city and some of the dungeons the heroes might go to during their journey. Charlie has been working on building some other locations altogether. But I couldn¡¯t tell him everything because I can¡¯t give away too many details about what might happen.¡±


    Mrs. Brown takes a sip of her iced tea, sincerely engaged and proud of her son¡¯s imagination.


    ¡°But you always have to play together? You can¡¯t play on your own, right?¡± Lucas sits up and looks at his mom. A frustrated tone comes over his voice.


    ¡°Right, which is why I don¡¯t want Sophie to play. It will waste our time and she never takes it seriously,¡± he says.


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t she take it seriously? She likes playing with you, even if she doesn¡¯t show it,¡± Lucas retrieves the pieces of paper from his pocket and unfolds them, showcasing them in the air in front of him.


    ¡°These are all of the characters in the adventure. You can play more than one of them, but it¡¯s better if you just pick one. She doesn¡¯t like any of them and she never has. She only likes playing with me if Tom is playing too,¡± he says. His mother gets up, walks over to the couch and sits next to Lucas. She looks at the pictures on the top page.


    ¡°Can I see them? I promise I won¡¯t read the details, I¡¯ll just look at the pictures, ok?¡± Lucas begrudgingly hands the page to his mother.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he says. Mrs. Brown, true to her word, skims over the images. She flips the page over and does the same on the reverse.


    ¡°May I see the other as well, please?¡± Lucas hands her the rest of the pages and lies back down. She quickly peruses them and hands them back to Lucas, her face now looking slightly disappointed.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t a single female character on any of those pages. That¡¯s why she doesn¡¯t like any of them. The only choices you gave her are men!¡± she exclaims. Lucas turns his head away and sighs.


    ¡°So, what? There are plenty of really cool characters here. From all sorts of backgrounds and with all sorts of strengths and weaknesses and powers!¡± he replies.


    ¡°Don¡¯t sigh at me, young man. Don¡¯t you think if you had female characters for Sophie to choose from that she might enjoy it more?¡± she asks. Noticing the tone in her voice, Lucas realizes that the question is equal parts inquisitive and also a command.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°But she hates playing, and I didn¡¯t know you were going to make her. Does she really have to? I don¡¯t want her to ruin it after Charlie and I have spent so much time getting this ready!¡± At this time, Mr. Brown walks into the room and sits down on his recliner.


    ¡°What are you two talking about?¡± he asks. Mrs. Brown looks at her husband with an incredulous look.


    ¡°I was just telling your son how thoughtful it would be if he were to create some female characters for Sophie to choose from when they play their game,¡± replies Mrs. Brown. Lucas sighs even louder than before. Before he can utter a word, Mrs. Brown cuts him off.


    ¡°Yes, yes I know. It¡¯s not a game. You know what I meant,¡± she says. Mr. Brown turns the lever on his chair, extending the footrest as he looks at Lucas.


    ¡°No women? None at all? Doesn¡¯t that seem a bit odd to you?¡± he asks. Lucas stands up from the couch and walks over to his father, handing him the pages of characters.


    ¡°There are female characters in the world, dad. I know there has to be women. I¡¯m not dumb. There just aren¡¯t any that you can play, but they still play a vital role in the story,¡± says Lucas. He turns and sits back down on the couch. ¡°Those are all of the characters you can play as. Just look at the pictures Charlie drew. They are really cool!¡± he says.


    Mr. Brown thumbs through the papers quickly. ¡°I know Charlie is good at drawing. That¡¯s not the issue here. You say there are female characters but you don¡¯t play as them? How does that work?¡± he asks.


    ¡°They are called NPCs. Non Player Characters. That means that the person running the campaign assumes the role of those characters,¡± replies Lucas. Mr. Brown reaches for his glass of scotch and takes a sip.


    ¡°Believe it or not, I have heard of NPCs before. With how much you and Tom talk about video games when he is here I would be remiss if I didn¡¯t pick up anything at all,¡± says Mr. Brown.


    ¡°Ok, so I have to play those characters. Many of them are throwaways, like a bartender or a merchant. Some of them, however, are much more fleshed out, like the villains for instance,¡± says Lucas.


    Mrs. Brown, realizing that David has the conversation under control, gets up and begins to walk out of the room but stops in the doorway.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to leave you two to it, then. Lucas, do you have everything you need downstairs? I don¡¯t want you all running up and down the basement stairs all night long.¡±  Lucas looks at the building by the side of the couch and replies, ¡°Yep. I just need to take this down and put it next to the rest of the compound and the city should be complete.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good. I am very proud of you that you built that whole city and that all of those bricks are being put to good use. Now finish talking to your father and be nice to your sister, do you understand?¡± she asks. Lucas slumps his shoulders but is happy to hear that she is proud of all the work he has put in over the past month.


    ¡°Thank you, mom. I will be.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. Then I am going to read my book. If you need anything, ask your father. He¡¯ll be watching the baseball game for a while.¡±  She then proceeds to her bedroom and shuts the door behind her. Mr. Brown looks back at his son and continues their conversation.


    ¡°But how is it fair if you are playing one of the characters and the NPCs. Don¡¯t you know everything that is going to happen?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Maybe it isn¡¯t fair, but someone has to be the NPCs. But I also want to play as the main hero. And it¡¯s no fun if Charlie is playing his character by himself. This is an adventure. The interactions you have with the people you are playing with are just as important as the game itself, if not more,¡± Lucas replies. Mr. Brown reaches for the remote next to him and turns on the television. He finds the channel playing the baseball game and mutes the volume.


    ¡°Well, you will have Sophie and tomorrow Tom will be here. I know he loves playing these games with you. Is three people enough for you to only play as the NPCs?¡± he asks. Lucas mulls the idea over in his head. He knows that Tom will join in.


    ¡°I guess it could work if Sophie doesn¡¯t ruin it. And if she actually likes her character she might want to keep playing,¡± he thinks. He gets up and walks over to his father.


    ¡°Can I have those back?¡± he asks as he points at the character pages. Mr. Brown hands them to Lucas. Lucas then walks over to the counter of the bar that forms a boundary between the kitchen and the living room. He sees the stack of notebooks he was looking for earlier and places the pages back into the notebook labeled ¡®Heroes¡¯. He passes over the book labeled ¡®Villains¡¯ and opens up the notebook labeled ¡®Allegiance Unknown¡¯. The cover is filled with more of Charlie¡¯s drawings. Faces of all shapes, sizes, and species emblazon it from corner to corner. Mixed in with the faces are pictures of all manner of beasts. Yet, in each corner there is a drawing separated from the rest by an ornate border of magical runes. A language Charlie created specifically for the adventure.


    Lucas walks back from the bar towards the couch and accidentally knocks the top of his building over. This reveals the detailed rooms within and the intricate design of the building as a whole. Each floor is built so the entire level can be removed, allowing for them to be completely accessible. He lays the notebook on the ground next to the building and begins to assess if he caused any damage.


    ¡°Looks like everything is okay. I just have to put the floors back together again,¡± he thinks. Relieved that no major reconstruction is necessary, he reaches for the first floor of the building. He begins to place it back into its proper position but stops to look at the exposed basement level. ¡°I really like this way this turned out,¡± he says. Mr. Brown looks over from the television and down at the pieces of the building on the floor.


    ¡°Everything ok? Oh! Is that the one you were struggling with?¡± he asks. He gets up from the recliner and walks over to where Lucas is kneeling.


    ¡°Yeah, and I was saying that I really like how it turned out. I wasn¡¯t sure if I had all the pieces I needed, but it ended up better than I had hoped it would,¡± says Lucas.


    Mr. Brown kneels down and takes a look at the exposed basement. He notices a stairwell that leads up to the main floor and a wooden door at the entrance to the room. Cells with stoned walls and metal barred doors fill the majority of the floor plan.


    ¡°Oh, so this is the dungeon you had mentioned? It looks really dreary. So, I guess that means it¡¯s great!¡± exclaims Mr. Brown. Lucas smiles at his father, knowing that he meant the compliment sincerely.


    ¡°Thanks! This is where the new adventure begins. Well, sort of. I¡¯ll explain it to Charlie and Sophie, I guess. And Tom when he gets here tomorrow. It¡¯s a bit hard to explain unless you know the whole world that I created,¡± Lucas replies. He then places the main floor back on top of the dungeon and continues to reassemble the rest of the building.


    ¡°I should get this down to the basement before Charlie arrives. I want to start as soon as we get settled,¡± he says.


    Mr. Brown reaches down for the notebook and looks at all of the pictures on the cover. His eye is caught by the drawings in the corners with the border of runes.


    ¡°Sounds good, but we never settled on who your sister was going to play. She really would enjoy it more if she could play a female character,¡± he says. He watches Lucas pick up the building and place it on the counter by the other notebooks.


    ¡°I know, dad. I agree. I think I have a plan that will work out well. It might even make the whole adventure better,¡± he says.


    ¡°Alright, so you¡¯re going to make new characters for her to choose from?¡± asks Mr. Brown. Lucas walks back over to his father and stands next to him, looking at the cover of the notebook.


    ¡°Nope, I am going to take an NPC and let her play it as her own character instead. I have a really cool one that I think she will love the design of,¡± he says. Mr. Brown looks down at his son, a somewhat worried look on his face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it would be better if she got to choose? Which character is it? How do you know she will enjoy it?¡± asks Mr. Brown. Lucas smiles up at his father and points at the corners of the cover. The first picture is of a black dog. The next two show the dog in varying stages of transformation. The last is that of a tall woman, wearing a long black cloak with striking black hair. The energy of a magical spell swirls around her arms and a devilish grin adorns her face.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± says Lucas. ¡°She will like it.¡±

 Sir Edwin the Brave

    Edwin slowly opens his eyes and attempts to look around the room. His immediate thought is a mixture of surprise and terror. The objects in the room are out of focus but his other senses inform him that what he is experiencing is real.


    "Was that all a dream? Where am I?" he thinks. He attempts to sit up but is stopped by severe pain as he moves, prompting him to lie back down. He tries to make out the manner of surface he is resting on and the best he can manage to figure out is a crudely made bed. His hands reach around for any hints that might help him determine where he is. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and then slowly reopens them.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be real,¡± he whispers. As his eyes refocus the world around him, he sees the familiar walls and metal bars from the cells where his torture took place.


    "How long have I been here?¡± he thinks. He tries to move his hand to wipe the hair from his brow, but the progress is stopped by a sharp clanging sound. A quick look at his arms reveals that both of his hands are shackled to metal bars. He turns his head the opposite way and looks down towards his feet. His bed is revealed to be nothing more than some blankets thrown on top of a few bales of hay.


    Edwin quickly darts his gaze at his chest and sees that he is not wearing a shirt and that his chest is covered in scars. He glances at each of his hands and sees scars covering them as well. A final look to the cell door reveals the little bits of skin still stuck to the metal from where his hands rested as the bars began to burn his skin.


    ¡°How can they be scarred already? Already healed? That¡¯s impossible,¡± he says.


    ¡°Not impossible,¡± says a female voice from the darkened corner of the room.


    Shocked by the realization that he is not alone, Edwin attempts to sit upright but is again stopped by the pain coursing through his body.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you. You endured so much last night,¡± says the woman. The words sting Edwin and a sinking feeling immediately courses through his veins.


    ¡°Last night, but that can¡¯t be¡­¡± his voice trails off as the woman walks into the light by his bed.


    ¡°As I said before, it is not impossible. You simply do not grasp the gravity of your current condition,¡± the woman says.


    As Edwin looks at the woman he is confronted with the truth that she is indeed the same one that appeared out of the block of ice. He stares into her eyes and is surprised by the complete lack of emotion they do not betray. The woman walks closer to him until she is standing right next to his bed. The long, hooded cloak she wears reveals only part of her shadowed face. She reaches out and places a hand on one of the bars that he is chained to. He notices her skin has an odd complexion that slowly changes between a light blue and warm reddish hue.


    ¡°Why should I believe you?¡± he asks. The woman smiles and moves her hand closer to one of his.


    ¡°Still defiant. I can respect that, but do not test me,¡± she says. She removes her hand from the bar and takes a few steps back. ¡°Perhaps I can prove it to you, then?¡±


    Edwin again attempts to sit up but this time only slightly raises his head. The pain is still severe but he forces himself to endure.


    ¡°And how do you propose you can do that? How do I know that this isn¡¯t all in my head, too?¡± he asks. The woman¡¯s smile grows larger as she rolls up each sleeve of her black cloak, revealing that the alternating skin color from her hand spreads over her arms as well.


    ¡°Oh Edwin, why of course it is all in your head.¡±


    Edwin¡¯s eyes grow large as he looks at his captor.


    ¡°How do you know my name?¡± He attempts to break free of the chains on his hands, but the irons do not budge.


    ¡°I know all about you, Sir Edwin the Brave. Brave? Ha! Not from where I am standing.¡± She notices that Edwin is again trying to break free of his shackles and giggles with amusement.


    ¡°The mighty Edwin cannot even get out of a simple charm. And my master thinks you are the one he needs for his journey?¡±


    Edwin looks at the shackles more closely and does not see what about them could be a charm. He has seen tricks before and these are definitely the real things. He then looks at the bars they are attached to and likewise they look and feel real. He jostles the chains; the sounds of the metal hitting against metal rings true.


    ¡°Stop saying my name! You are crazy, I don¡¯t believe in tricks or charms!¡± The woman folds her arms in disappointment and frowns.


    ¡°Now, now. You know what happens when you upset me. And I think we established that you don¡¯t believe in tricks last night.¡±  She unfolds her arms and takes a step closer to Edwin. He raises his head and their eyes meet. The woman is surprised that she sees no fear in him and tilts her head.


    ¡°That is interesting,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Edwin retorts.


    ¡°Nothing, nothing. Now, you say you don¡¯t believe in tricks. This is something I have to amend before I take you to my master. I thought I could make you believe with my little show last night, but clearly that did not work¨C¡±


    ¡°You mean when you cooked me alive?¡± Edwin interrupts. The woman raises her hand, a pang of anger flashes across her face. She takes a deep breath and slowly rests her arms back to her side.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t do that. I am trying to be nice. Now, as I was saying, I thought that would work, but it was to no avail. So, I thought showing you that your nasty, horrible wounds healed overnight would do the trick. But still, it seems you do not want to believe in my tricks. So, perhaps a simple mind such as yours requires a simple solution to remedy your stubborn ignorance.¡±


    Edwin closes his eyes and sighs.


    ¡°Fine, I will play your little game. Just how do you propose to prove to me that this is all some silly trick taking place in my head?¡± he asks. The woman lowers the hood of her cloak, revealing her long black hair. It shines even in the dim light of the cell.


    Edwin now confirms that her entire body must be covered in a mixture of red and blue colors as her face also dances between them. Her eyes, now visible, are emerald green. Razor-thin black eyebrows seem to almost hover over them. Edwin follows her nose down to her lips. They are thin and pursed together as she stares back at him. Her jawline and cheekbones are soft, and overall, her exotic beauty surprises him. However, he is quick to realize that her presence is commanding, not just because of his current condition, but also because of the confidence she exudes. She seems to notice Edwin studying her and smiles.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll get to the point. Like I said, there is a simple solution for your simple mind. You continue to attempt to break free of your chains. Take a close look at the bars they are attached to,¡± she says. Edwin begrudgingly heeds her command and looks at the bars on either side of the bed.


    ¡°They look like normal bars to me,¡± he replies. The woman lowers her head and puts her face in her palm.


    ¡°For all the planes of existence, look closer, you imbecile!¡± Edwin again looks at the bars, this time scanning the length of them. He starts at one end and gazes to the other. He then looks back at his hands and where the chains are attached. He lowers his head and turns it to the side, as the pain from raising it to look down toward his feet becomes too much to bear. As he lies there, he realizes that the bars are not attached to the bed.


    ¡°Obviously they must be attached to the ground, then,¡± he thinks. He looks for any signs of support beams leading to the ground beside his bed. He finds none. He quickly raises his head again, pushing through the pain that attempts to force him back into unconsciousness. He scans the full length of the bars one more time and notices that, quite to his astonishment, they appear to be floating in midair. The woman notices Edwin¡¯s realization and the smile returns to her face.


    ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t so hard, now was it?¡± she says sarcastically. Before Edwin has a chance to respond she moves next to the bars and motions her hands underneath them. Waving them the full length of the bars, Edwin admits to himself that the support beams he is looking for are not somehow being obscured.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°But, how can that be? Why don¡¯t they move when I pull my hands away?¡± he asks. The woman walks backward a few steps.


    ¡°A trick, you dolt. Brave, but not bright, are we?¡± she remarks. Edwin tires of having his intelligence questioned, so he tries to sit upright once more. As he writhes and struggles to continue his ascent, the woman waves a hand through the air.


    ¡°Faerdig,¡± she says. As the word leaves her mouth Edwin jolts upright into a fully seated position. He notices the pain disappearing from his body. He looks at his hand and down at his chest and the scars shrink before his eyes until they are no more. He looks again at his chained hands and then up towards the ceiling. He looks for anything that the bars may be hanging from and sees nothing.


    ¡°How¡­what did you just do to me?¡± he asks. The woman folds her arms and glowers.


    ¡°I removed all of your pain. I removed all of your scars. I removed any remnant of evidence that anything ever happened to you last night. And still you don¡¯t believe in tricks?¡±


    Edwin takes a moment to contemplate what the woman is telling him.


    ¡°Could she actually be telling the truth? Is she capable of some sort of magic?¡± he wonders.


    ¡°NOT magic!¡± she angrily replies. A dumbfounded look shoots across Edwin¡¯s face.


    ¡°How do you¡­ how do you know what I am thinking?¡± The woman walks toward the bed. She momentarily stops at the bars and then proceeds to walk through them. She sits down next to Edwin and places her hand on top of one of his. Before Edwin has time to contemplate the idea of this woman being able to read his thoughts or that she can walk through solid objects, a new sensation of intense heat and cold shoots through his hand.


    ¡°Because, Edwin, all of this is taking place inside your head. You don¡¯t feel anything, unless I want you to,¡± she replies. She looks down at the pair of their hands and continues, ¡°This feeling you cannot understand; this simultaneous burning heat and frigid cold, you only feel it because I want you to feel it.¡±


    Edwin slowly turns his head and once again locks eyes with his captor. He is met with the sincerity and truth of hers, as waves of doubt, despair, and hysteria flow through his body. His mind begins to reel at the thought of any of what she is saying being true.


    ¡°But it is true, Edwin,¡± says the woman. She removes her hand from his, and the painful sensation disappears. Edwin¡¯s mind begins to crack as the structure of his reality is bombarded with these new truths.


    ¡°Just let me out of these chains!¡± he desperately screams. The woman stands up from the bed and once again walks through the bars as she steps away. She turns around to face Edwin. A devilish smile stretches across her face.


    ¡°Finally. All you ever had to do was ask. Enden.¡± The woman barely whispers the word, but as she does, the chains on Edwin¡¯s hands vanish into the air. The bars they were attached to follows suit and dissolves into nothingness. Now free from his shackles, Edwin stands up. He is surprised that his legs so easily support him.


    ¡°If this is all in my head, if this is all made up, then how are you here? I don¡¯t know you and I would never have made you up. You are evil!¡± he exclaims. The woman noticeably blushes.


    ¡°Edwin, you flatter me,¡± Edwin stomps his foot in anger. He turns to where the bed was, only to find it replaced by a cozy lounge chair. The woman gestures towards it and says, ¡°Please, have a seat.¡±


    Edwin, baffled by the appearance of the chair, slowly sits down and is instantly relieved of worry. He rests his head against the back and closes his eyes. His hands gently move along the upholstery, his core filling with warmth and a sense of happiness. His thoughts return to his house and his family. He sees his wife and daughter in the distance, playing in their front yard. He calls out to them but they do not reply. He tries again, this time louder than before. Still, there is no response. He tries to walk towards them, but his feet do not follow the commands he is giving them.


    He looks around for any indication of his whereabouts. The house and his family are quickly surrounded by darkness and vanish. Dread washes over him. He tries to open his eyes but they remain shut. The darkness gives way to two blurry images in the distance. They approach, each figure on either side of him. As they get closer, the haziness enveloping them begins to wane. He begins to make out the shape of two people sitting in chairs. Chairs eerily similar to the one he is sitting in. This realization prompts him once again to open his eyes. They do not budge. The encroaching chairs are now rapidly approaching his own.


    ¡°Hey! Can you hear me? You have to slow down somehow!¡± he cries out. The shout dies in the darkness. The chairs are now mere feet from colliding with him when they suddenly stop. He is stricken with fear. The people in each chair are woven into the chair itself. The fabric is stitched through their skin, revealing random parts of their bodies throughout. He takes a closer look at the person to his left. He can barely make out the shape of her face, but her pointed ears give away that she is an elf. Edwin scans for other signs of identification and stops at the middle of the chair back. His eyes fixate on a silver pendant of two entwined birch leaves.


    ¡°Olara!¡± Edwin screams. He looks over the rest of the chair and admits that the person within it is indeed his longtime confidant. Edwin darts his gaze towards the chair to his right and his stomach lurches. Not much of this body can be seen through the fabric, but the part of the head that is exposed reveals a scar running from its scalp line down through its right eye.


    ¡°Dascar, not you too!¡± cries Edwin. He struggles to get out of the chair, but seems powerless to move any part of his body. However, without thought or effort, his eyes finally do open. Edwin is shocked back to his senses when his vision reveals the dark cell and the woman standing before him. He tries to say something but his mouth does not move. The woman walks toward him.


    ¡°Yes, your friends. You remember them, don¡¯t you Edwin? Don¡¯t worry, we are taking good care of them, too.¡±


    Again, he tries to say something, anything, but his mouth does not open. He attempts to reach toward his mouth but cannot move his arms either. He looks down at them and is horrified by what he sees. Just like in his dream state, the chair is now consuming him. His arms are riddled with strands of fabric poking through his skin. His legs have been sewn into the bottom of the chair, and a quick glance at his chest reveals a mixture of feathers, cotton, and cloth spilling forth from an open wound. One last terrified effort to scream proves meaningless.


    ¡°Here, perhaps this will help,¡± says the woman. She conjures a mirror from the air and extends it toward Edwin. He looks into it and sees the nature of his plight. His lips have been sewn shut. But, there is no pain. He neither sees nor feels any blood. The woman retracts the mirror.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so daft, I can hear your thoughts, remember?¡± she says. Edwin struggles to collect his thoughts. He manages to keep any notion of what he saw in his dream out of them completely.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel any pain because you don¡¯t want me to,¡± he thinks.


    ¡°Good, good. You are finally beginning to accept and understand,¡± the woman replies.


    ¡°I do. I accept that there are things that I cannot understand. I accept that you have some strange powers, some mag¡­tricks that you can perform,¡± says Edwin. The woman crosses her legs and begins to float in a seated position in midair.


    ¡°Yes, I have many tricks. My master has even more. I will take you to him soon, now that you are beginning to understand,¡± she says.


    ¡°Why do I have to understand these tricks before I can see your master?¡± replies Edwin. The woman lowers her legs and walks over to the chair. With another wave of her arm, the chair releases Edwin from its grasp, causing him to fall to the floor. He reaches up to his mouth and is relieved that the stitching has been removed. He stands up and dusts off his clothes, somehow the same he was wearing the night before. A touch of his chest reveals that the wound has closed, and so far as he can tell, he is completely back to normal.


    ¡°It¡¯s not for me to say, entirely. But, my master has a special plan for you, the nature of which requires you to understand that the world you live in isn¡¯t the only world, per se.¡± Edwin walks over to the gate of the cell and leans against them, looking at the pieces of skin left behind from his hands. He picks up a piece and shows it to the woman.


    ¡°All of this is only in my head, but I can feel it because you allow me to? My friends in the chairs in my dream, my flesh burning, the block of ice and you being a talking dog are all somehow tricks? Do you even have my friends?¡± he asks. The woman walks next to Edwin and rests her hand on the cell door.


    ¡°Like I said, all you ever had to do was ask,¡± she replies. She opens the door and swings it open. The resulting crash of it hitting against the barred walls of the cell echoes through the rest of the dungeon. She takes a step outside and turns back toward Edwin.


    ¡°We do have your friends. They were in those chairs just as you were. Your flesh did burn. I was in a block of ice and I am a talking dog.¡±


    Edwin laughs and tries to walk out, but his head smacks into an invisible wall. He rubs his nose with his hand, his eyes slightly watering.


    ¡°Another trick?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re getting brighter.¡±


    ¡°If all of this is inside my head then why should I believe that any of this is even real?¡±


    ¡°Then again, perhaps not,¡± she says quietly.


    The woman winks at Edwin and pulls the hood of her cloak back over her head. She then rolls down her sleeves and closes her eyes. She turns away from him and lowers her head. She utters a string of words that Edwin cannot make out and then vanishes, her cloak falling to a heap on the ground below. Edwin stares at the cloak and notices it moving. It forms into a hump and is violently shaken off, revealing the stark, black dog it was hiding moments before.


    ¡°You will have to come to learn, Edwin, that just because these things are taking place inside your head, doesn¡¯t mean that they aren¡¯t real,¡± the dog says with the same voice of the woman.


    Edwin chuckles at the sight of the dog. He knows that it is the same one from the night before.


    ¡°Even so, how can I be sure that this isn¡¯t some sort of dream state like I had when I was seeing my friends in the chairs?¡± She sits down on her hind legs and looks up at him.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s the game, now isn¡¯t it? But who said anything about seeing your friends in their chairs being a dream?¡±  She stands up and walks a few steps toward the large wooden door at the end of the room and then stops to face Edwin once again.


    ¡°Now, don¡¯t you want to go see them?¡± Edwin reaches at the opening of the cell door and feels the invisible wall still impeding his exit.


    ¡°How am I supposed to get through this door?¡±


    ¡°Tsk, tsk, Edwin, I told you, all you have¡ª¡°


    ¡°May I go through the door and follow you to my friends?¡± he interrupts.


    ¡°Why of course,¡± she replies.


    Edwin reaches for the wall and does not find it. He cautiously takes a step through the opening and steps out of the cell. He takes a few steps toward the dog and is startled by the crashing of the cell door behind him. He looks at the dog and then back at the inside of the cell. He reels when he sees himself lying in a heap in the corner, skin melted off and charred bones poking through the remainder of his burnt clothes. He quickly looks back at the dog and then down at his chest and hands. They are perfectly normal. His thoughts are again interrupted by a soft grunt. He looks back at the dog and sees the same devilish grin from before happily strewn across her mouth.


    ¡°Come along now, right this way,¡± she says.

 Final Preparations

    The basement at the Brown household is broken up into two main areas. The first, which appears at the base of the stairs, is like any other basement. The air is slightly damp and musty. The exposed ceiling reveals the floorboards from the rooms above and the support beams keeping everything in place. Ductwork and wiring zigzag throughout the room and cobwebs gently moving in the darker recesses. There are rows of storage bins sorted by what holiday components they contain. Turn the corner, and a small laundry room holds piles of clothes belonging to individual members of the household. In the back corner of that room is a table littered with arts and crafts materials, and a pegboard houses various tools on the wall behind it.


    On the opposite end of the room, as you reach the bottom of the stairs, through the rows of decorations and holiday accessories is a door. It is hard to make out at first glance as it is covered in the same faux-wood paneling as the rest of the basement. Only a tiny sliver of light emitting from under the door gives away its location. Upon opening the door an entirely different universe is revealed. Crammed into the room are numerous long wooden tables. Surrounding the tables are evenly distributed chairs. Hanging from the ceiling on wire are various ships from science fiction movies and creatures from fantasy novels and magazines. Closer inspection of the table reveals tiny squares extending in a grid over the entire surface. Dark sheets are draped over most of the tables. Only a small corner of the table in the very back of the room is exposed. A village built out of plastic building bricks delicately rests awaiting the final pieces of the construction to be put in place.


    ¡°I just finished it earlier today! I¡¯m so glad I got it done in time,¡± Lucas says. He places the final parts of the building onto the table and the village is completed. Charlie reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag from within.


    ¡°Did you get the figurines finished?¡± Lucas asks. Charlie smiles, looks up at Lucas and places the bag onto the table in front of him.


    ¡°You bet I did! Charlie proudly reaches into the bag and pulls out the first figurine. He places ii onto the middle of the village square and awaits Lucas¡¯ response. Lucas picks it up and slowly spins it around in his hand. The figure, only two inches tall, is packed with details. He knows that Charlie must have spent hours painting this one for it to turn out as well as it did.


    ¡°This is amazing! Are they all like this?¡± asks Lucas. Charlie¡¯s smile grows larger and he reaches into the bag again. He carefully places the remainder of the figurines on the table and rests back into his chair.


    ¡°Of course they are! You told me that this was going to be the best game we¡¯ve ever played so I had to make sure our characters were equal to the task!¡±


    Lucas reaches down and picks up another figure, this one slightly smaller than the first one. In his hand is an intricately detailed dwarf. He has long red hair that is braided into a ponytail. His equally impressive beard is adorned with shiny jewels. His complexion almost matches that of slate but tiny freckles can still be seen covering the skin around his eyes and nose.


    ¡°It sort of looks like your dad!¡± says Lucas as he puts it back down onto the table. Charlie laughs.


    ¡°Good, that¡¯s sort of what I was going for. All of them are based off of either our real family members or obviously are existing characters from previous games. I thought the dwarf would be a good fit for the tavern keeper,¡± he replies.


    Lucas picks up the figure once more and moves it over to the tavern on the opposite side of the city square roughly two feet from the building he had placed before.


    ¡°Put the other NPCs where they should go and I¡¯ll go grab the rest of the old ones,¡± says Lucas.


    He then gets up and walks to the other side of the room where he opens up a tiny box and removes a large drawstring bag. While he walks back, Charlie begins to place the rest of the figurines into the world. The dwarf gets placed into the tavern directly. A few of the citizens are placed by the bar, eagerly awaiting food and drink. Merchants stand behind or next to their carts, ever ready to sell their wares to travelers and adventurers alike. A few guards begin their watch next to the bank and even more protect the entrance to the government buildings. Next, Charlie removes the roof of the three-story building in the corner against the city walls. He carefully places a figure of a fat man and a black dog next to the fireplace. Finally, he places a tiny book onto the end table that stands next to a large red lounge chair and then replaces the roof.


    ¡°All set on my end!¡± he shouts exuberantly. Lucas arrives back at the village and plops down the bag. He rifles through its contents for a few seconds until he stops and removes an armored human. He removes the top two levels of the same building and puts the human into the dungeon cells that are now revealed. He replaces the floors of the building and smiles.


    ¡°Was that Sir Edwin?¡± Charlie asks. Lucas pretends not to hear his friend and begins to dig into the bag once more.


    ¡°Hey! I know it was! I thought he was kidnapped and left for dead?¡±


    Lucas continues to go through the bag until he stops, this time removing a figurine of a tall and elegant female elf. This time he removes just the top floor and places the elf into the room next to some tables in what appears to be a kitchen. He leaves the top floor and roof on the table and goes back to his bag again.


    ¡°Hold on! That was definitely Olara. What are you playing at?¡± Charlie asks. As his words leave his mouth Lucas removes one final figure. This one is the largest figure so far placed onto the world, a towering half-orc covered in tattoos and holding a giant ax. Lucas places him next to the elf and then reassembles the building.


    ¡°Yes, before you lose your mind even more, that is Dascar.¡± Charlie places his hands behind his head and interlocks his fingers.


    ¡°So, let me see if I understand this. Our three main characters that were kidnapped and left for dead are somehow now alive in this city and all in the same place?¡±


    Lucas gets up and slowly pulls back some of the sheet closest to him. It reveals an even larger portion of the city he has painstakingly been building for the past couple of weeks. The sheets are removed enough to reveal the opposite side of the city walls, the center of which is split by a massive iron gate. He looks at Charlie and grins.


    ¡°Look familiar?¡±


    Charlie gets up from his chair so he can view the walls and the gate from the opposite side. He scans over the structure and stops once he gets to the little battle standards made out of felt. Drawn onto the fabric is the shape of a jagged rock with green light emanating outwards from its center. He turns to look at Lucas as an expression of surprise and intrigue grows across his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right? You didn¡¯t finally finish it, did you?¡± he asks. Lucas reaches down under the tabletop and pulls out a drawer previously concealed by the sheet. He pulls out a notebook and gleefully extends it toward Charlie.


    ¡°The Felstone Chronicles! You did finish it! That¡¯s what we are going to play?¡±  Lucas gestures for his friend to take the notebook from him as he sits back onto his chair.


    ¡°I made the final edits to the ending last night. I think it¡¯s as ready as it is ever going to be. You didn¡¯t really think that I was going to let our party get kidnapped and then we would never play them again, did you?¡± he asks. Charlie begins to flip through the notebook. He notices that many of his drawings, maps and diagrams are mixed in with the rest of the pages and smiles.


    ¡°And you used all my work! That¡¯s awesome, man. Thanks!¡±  Lucas pats Charlie on the back, and his tone becomes slightly more serious.


    ¡°Of course I did. I couldn¡¯t have done any of this without you. I know I have been saying that I¡¯m working on this forever, and I have been. But your feedback and help have always been what¡¯s kept me going to finish it. But don¡¯t look too closely at any of the details, I don¡¯t want you to ruin the surprise." Charlie looks Lucas in the eyes and can see the sincerity of his friend¡¯s words. He has always considered Lucas to be his best friend, but at this very moment, his love for that friendship strengthens tenfold.


    ¡°Thanks Lou, seriously. You know how much I love to create these worlds with you,¡± he says as he hands the notebook back to him. ¡°And don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t want to ruin anything. You have been talking about this adventure for so long, I want to experience everything for the first time right along with you,¡± he continues.


    Lucas smiles at Charlie and puts the notebook back into the drawer. He then covers the city with the sheet again, leaving only the tiny corner of the city exposed.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°So, we will obviously be starting our campaign here in this tiny square. I don¡¯t want to give too much away but as you can tell our three heroes are all in the same building,¡± says Lucas. Charlie looks at the three-story building by the city walls that house their heroes. He then thinks about the top floor.


    ¡°What about the big fella and the dog?¡± he asks. Lucas puts his index finger up to his lips and replies, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, once we start I will explain all of the backstory.¡± He then looks around the square and at all of the figurines now filling the streets. He looks for one figure in particular.


    ¡°Did you bring the female wizard with you?¡± Charlie reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out one final figure: a tall woman dressed in black from head to toe, with long black hair swirling around her shoulders. Her hands are extended in front of her, the right one a deep red color and the left one an icy blue. Between them an orb forms, mixing from the energies.


    ¡°I saved the best for last.¡±  He puts it down next to the fountain between the tavern and the bank.


    ¡°This one is my favorite. I am really pleased with how it came out!¡± Lucas picks it up to take a closer look.


    ¡°You really outdid yourself with this one, man!¡±  Once again, the roof of the mysterious building is removed, and the wizard is placed next to the figurine of the dog by the fireplace. This does not go unnoticed by Charlie.


    ¡°So who is she, then?¡± Lucas sheepishly grins.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I told you, I will set the entire campaign up before we start and we pick our characters. But, she is going to be played by Sophie.¡±


    Lucas braces for a sharp retort from Charlie at the news that his little sister is going to be joining them, but none comes.


    ¡°Are you okay with that? I thought you would be mad,¡± says Lucas.


    ¡°I mean, she doesn¡¯t really know how to play, but once she gets up to speed, I¡¯m sure she will be fine. I can¡¯t imagine we are going to get into anything crazy the first few play sessions so she will have time to learn, right?¡±


    Lucas scans over the entirety of the room. His world is hidden beneath the bed sheets, but he knows exactly where everything is, waiting to be explored. He thinks about how much time and effort he has put into this endeavor and how everything he has done before with his world building has culminated with the creation before him.


    ¡°That¡¯s true. But her character is an integral part in the story. I know how the story can play out. I think I have accounted for all possible scenarios, but as you know, anything can happen when you roll the dice. I¡¯m just worried that she will mess up the entire game with her choices,¡± says Lucas. Charlie gets up from his chair and walks to the door. He too looks over all of the tables and marvels at the sheer size of the world he knows he helped create.


    ¡°This world is so big and I am sure the campaign is massive in size and length. You know as well as I do that sometimes the most epic moments come from things you didn¡¯t plan for,¡± he says. Upon closer inspection of the table nearest him, he realizes that the hidden world has topography as well. The sheet undulates over what he can only imagine to be mountains or buildings that somehow pierce the sky. His curiosity gets the better of him and he steals a glance toward Lucas. He sees that his friend is not currently looking in his direction. Taking this moment, he quickly kneels down and lifts the sheet up high enough to allow him to peek underneath the table itself. His eyes grow wide as an entire separate hidden world sprawls out before him, also covering the full length of the room.


    ¡°This is going to be awesome,¡± he thinks.


    ¡°Hey, what are you doing over there?¡± asks Lucas. Charlie bolts upright as his face begins to turn red.


    ¡°Oh, um nothing, I was just tying my shoe!¡± Lucas knows that Charlie is not telling the truth but cannot rightly fault him for his curiosity getting the better of him, as he would have done the same.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Sure you were. Just don¡¯t go peeking anymore, ok?¡± Charlie walks back over and stands next to Lucas. He playfully punches him in the shoulder and chuckles.


    ¡°You can¡¯t really blame me, can you? I had to see if you added everything we talked about,¡± Lucas returns the punch, slightly harder than Charlie¡¯s.


    ¡°Of course I added everything. And even more that you don¡¯t know about. This is going to be the best summer ever. Oh, that reminds me! Tom is coming home early. He will be here tomorrow which means we can start in earnest earlier than I thought!¡± Charlie sits down in the chair closest to him and starts extending his fingers, counting them off as he does so.


    ¡°Sophie is playing the mystery wizard. I am playing Dascar. So, Tom is playing¡­¡±


    ¡°Sir Edwin!¡± Lucas interrupts. ¡°He always plays him better than I do and honestly I like playing Olara more anyway. Elves are cooler than Humans.¡±


    ¡°Sweet! I was hoping you would say that. No offense, but the games always go better when he can play as Edwin,¡± laughs Charlie. Lucas sarcastically laughs in response, but he genuinely smiles.


    ¡°Very funny, but no offense taken. I really wrote the arc of Edwin with Tom¡¯s play style in mind. He is the most strategic out of all of us and trust me when I say that we really need Edwin to survive this one!¡± Charlie reaches for his backpack. He pulls out notebooks, pencils, and a cup full of dice. He places them on the table in front of him.


    ¡°So, when do we begin?¡±  Lucas walks over to the far side of the room. A web of vents shoots out from the furnace against the wall and extends through the ceiling. Three of them are labeled with black permanent markers, each with a name of one of the Brown children. He puts his hand on the vent labeled ¡®Sophie¡¯ and bangs on it with his fist as hard as he can and then waits.


    ¡°As soon as she gets down here we can go over the basics of the game with her. Honestly, once Tom gets here she will try harder and he will make sure she understands ¨C


    A slightly garbled and echoed voice slowly builds through the floors above until Sophie¡¯s voice interrupts Lucas.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Sophie asks. Lucas smiles at Charlie and then turns back to the vent.


    ¡°We have everything set up down here. We are waiting for you so we can start! And bring the snacks down here when you come down!¡± shouts Lucas. Moments later the faint sound of a door slamming shut makes its way through the ductwork and footsteps can be heard marching down the stairs above. Charlie belly laughs as he processes what he witnessed.


    ¡°When did you figure out that trick?¡± he asks. Lucas returns to the other side of the room and sits down next to Charlie.


    ¡°A few nights ago when I was bringing some of the wall sections I noticed I could hear her music playing through the vents. I started yelling into all of them until she finally responded back. I got my dad to help me figure out where the rest of them go. It drives her crazy!¡±


    ¡°That is amazing,¡± Charlie replies.


    ¡°So, as I was saying. We¡¯ll go over the basics of the rules so she can follow along and then I will go over the backstory for the beginning of our new campaign. I¡¯m not worried about Tom getting up to speed when he gets here tomorrow, we won¡¯t get far tonight anyhow I imagine,¡± says Lucas. Charlie leans back in his chair, resting the back of it against the wall behind him.


    ¡°Sounds good, bud! And I asked my parents and they talked to yours and said it was ok if I stayed here the whole weekend!¡± Charlie replies. Lucas jumps out of his seat and pumps his fist into the air.


    ¡°Great! If Tom gets here and joins in by tomorrow night and we can play for a good chunk of hours we should be able to get to the first real combat encounter before you go home.¡± The sound of footsteps directly above him alerts Lucas that Sophie is in the kitchen.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think she would actually grab snacks!¡± he laughs. Charlie laughs as well and rests his chair back down on the ground.


    ¡°Hours of playtime will only get us to the first combat encounter? How much exploration and roleplaying did you put in?¡±


    ¡°Well, I said the first real combat. There will be a few little skirmishes before then, but like I mentioned, Sophie¡¯s character is integral and powerful, so as long as she does her part the first few altercations shouldn¡¯t be anything to worry about. And besides, the rest of the gang are starting where they left off when they were kidnapped, stats-wise,¡± Lucas replies. Charlie looks at his friend in disbelief. The door to their private domain opens before he is able to ask a follow-up question.


    Sophie walks through the door, holding a bowl of food in each hand. One contains a mixture of pretzels and potato chips. The other is filled with various individual candies. On top of each rests some paper plates and napkins. She haphazardly drops everything onto a table in front of her. They hit part of the hidden constructed world underneath and almost topple over as they slowly rest to a stop on the surface. The bed sheet covering that part of the table exposes a part of what looks like an overgrown forest.


    ¡°Careful! You¡¯ll break something!¡± yells Lucas. He runs over to the table and pulls the sheet back over it, obscuring the world once more. Sophie ignores her brother¡¯s outburst and rolls her eyes.


    ¡°Whatever. You have to get the drinks if you want any. Oh, hey Charlie,¡± she says. Charlie stands up from his chair.


    ¡°Hi, Sophie. I can get the drinks, they¡¯re in the fridge down here, right?¡± he asks. Lucas glares at his sister but tries to remain calm. He knows that her inclusion and desire to play is vital to the success of the campaign.


    ¡°Yeah, they should be on the bottom shelf or one of the drawers. I¡¯ll take an orange drink. Sophie, what do you want?¡± asks Lucas. Sophie is caught off guard by Lucas being somewhat nice to her after what she did with the bowls of snacks and thus honestly answers him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take a juice. Thanks, Charlie,¡± she responds. Charlie leaves the room and goes to fridge in the other part of the basement. He grabs the drinks for Lucas and Sophie and takes a bottle of water for himself. Meanwhile, Lucas grabs the bowls of food and walks them over to the workbench next to where he and Charlie are sitting.


    ¡°Look, I know you don¡¯t want to play with me, but once Tom gets here I think you will actually enjoy it, eventually. Just don¡¯t take it too seriously and use your imagination. It¡¯s a game, so have some fun,¡± he tells her. Charlie returns to the room and places the drinks next to the food.


    ¡°I¡¯m only doing this because mom and dad are making me so don¡¯t expect me to have fun.¡±  Charlie opens his bottle of water and grabs some chocolates and sits down in his chair.


    ¡°Oh, come on Sophie, lighten up a bit, besides apparently your character is the strongest one out of all of ours,¡± says Charlie. She turns to face Lucas and puts her hands on her hips.


    ¡°Is that so? I don¡¯t get to make a character like everyone else?¡± Lucas puts some chips and pretzels onto a plate and sits down.


    ¡°None of us are making new characters to play. I had to make dozens of new ones for the NPCs, but all of our player characters are from previous games. I took one of the characters I created and decided that you can play as her instead. Charlie is right; she really is one of the strongest. She is also really mysterious. Your decisions with her will have a huge impact on the game,¡± Lucas replies. Sophie seems satisfied with the answer and puts some snacks onto a plate and sits next to Charlie.


    ¡°Fine, but she better be all of those things. If I try to do something and you tell me I can¡¯t because she is some dumb girl, I am going to tell mom. She told me I could make my own character."


    ¡°I promise, Soph, you will like playing as this character,¡± Lucas replies. Charlie pops a piece of chocolate into his mouth and opens his notebook to his character sheet containing all the information and abilities of his half-orc, Dascar.


    ¡°So, shall we get started, then?¡± he asks. Lucas opens up the drawer underneath the tabletop once more and pulls out a large piece of cardboard that is folded into three equal parts. Charlie illustrated each panel with wonderfully detailed portraits of one of each of the three heroes. Lucas places it in front of him so only the top of his face can be seen peeking over. It hides the giant smile on his face but the enthusiasm in his voice cannot be hidden.


    ¡°I thought you would never ask!¡± he exclaims. Sophie looks at Charlie and her brother and pouts. She looks at Charlie, surrounded by piles of papers and graphs and his stacks of different colored dice.


    ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t I get any of that stuff?¡± she asks. Lucas lifts up from his chair enough to see his sister clearly and realizes what she is referring to.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I honestly got so excited I forgot to give you anything,¡± he replies. He stands up and walks over to the workbench. He opens the top drawer and pulls out a notebook and pencil and a small sack of dice. He places them in front of his sister and then walks back to his station. He rifles through a folder of character sheets until he finds the one his sister needs. He hands it to Charlie who then passes it to Sophie. She looks down at the pages in front of her and stares at only one thing; the name of the character.


    ¡°Torcha?¡± she says incredulously.